Caught
by glindalovesshoes
Summary: When Jack tries to pack for a weekend at the cabin he realizes some of his things are missing and he knows exactly who took them./Fluff


_A/N: _

Here we go... this is my fist Stargate fic ever and it was inspired by a meme I saw on Insta.  
It's just something small, something cute and fluffy and I hope you'll like it.

I started watching SG1 in November by the recommendation of my friend starscythe and it's been a crazy journey for me. One thing is clear... I've fallen hard for Sam/Jack.

I'd like to thank my beta Alex (waterbaby134) for supporting me, for always being there for me and motivating me, for telling me things are gonna be okay and for encouraging me to post my fics. She's the best beta out there and I'm so thankful to have her.

Big thanks also goes to Angie who introduced me to S/J fic and encouraged me to write S/J fic and who endures my fangirling.

* * *

_My boyfriend just asked me if he could borrow one of HIS shirts I stole from him._

_You know what, yes you can. Thank you for asking properly._

* * *

Caught

He's had it. Truly. Enough is enough, especially now that he has got a few days off where he wants to go up to his cabin and _she _is supposed to come by there tomorrow, too. This has to stop, for crying out loud.

Staring at his closet, Jack eyes the pathetic pile of old shirts that's left, none of which really fit anymore since he's started his job in Washington as no one had told him how flying a desk also meant gaining a few pounds. Well, it's not like they don't fit _at all_. They _do_, but they're not oversized anymore and they're definitely not his favourite shirts. Some are gifts, some are falling apart and some are just a bad buy.

How is he supposed to pack when all he has left is… _this_?! Sure, he could wear the button down shirts he's got to wear in the office, but he's going _fishing_. Not trying to establish an intergalactic trade with the alien fish in his pond. No, as lovely as it was in the beginning, this has to stop.

Without a second thought, he flips his work phone open and sits down on the bed, waiting for his urgent request to be approved by the Daedalus.

"Of course we will beam you up, Sir. Stand by."

Being a General surely comes with its own perks.

Xxxxx

She's browsing through the closet, aimlessly throwing single pieces of clothing at the suitcase that lies open on her bed. The past few weeks have been rather tough at the SGC and she's happy for the few days of stand down the team has been ordered to by Landry. The fact Jack was able to get a few days of leave approved by the Chief of Staff so they could go up to his cabin together to catch a break, is a lucky but welcome turn of events.

In just a few more hours she is going to see him. Finally. A long-distance relationship was not what she'd hoped for when they started this, but you take what you can get. Speaking of… Sam grins and buries her nose in the shirt she's wearing. It smells like him, reminds her of him and she cannot wait to bury her head against his neck, to smell him, to kiss him, for him to take off her clothes and…

"What the…" Her eyes squeeze shut as the room is engulfed into bright white light and her hand automatically reaches out to her weapon holster… which she realizes she's not wearing because she's in her own home for Christ's sake. When the light vanishes and she's finally able to see again, Sam is surprised to find Jack standing next to her bed, arms crossed and lips drawn into a thin line.

"What happened?" she asks immediately, her senses on high alert. Jack is _moody_. This is not a good sign.

"Well," he starts, taking a step closer, "I was trying to pack."

"Do you have to cancel the trip? Has something come up? You could have called." There could be a million reasons why he came here early, but judging from his posture… it must be something _very _ upsetting. He hasn't even as much as said hello. "Jack…?"

"As I said, I was trying to pack and then I realized something." He starts again, this time crossing his hands behind his back while walking up and down, inspecting the contents of her closet and suitcase. The fact he is still wearing part of his dress blues gives the whole thing a bit more of an official touch. Finally, he turns toward her and sighs.

"Carter." Oh-oh. "While I tolerated your insubordinate behavior in the beginning, perhaps considered it even _cute_ for a while, it must stop."

Her stomach drops and it's as if someone has put an ice bucket over her head. She grasps the end of the shirt and twirls it between her fingers as she's trying to find the right words to say. This is, well… the last thing she expected and it hurts. Especially coming from him in this manner. But then again, better today, tonight, rather than tomorrow. She's screwed up.

"I… I'm sorry, Sir." Her eyes are downcast, she doesn't dare look him in the eye. That's it, it's over. It was good while it lasted.

"You should be. I'm pretty sure stealing a General's shirts is a court martiable offense."

"Your _what_?!" Surely she must have misheard what he's just said.

Jack raises an eyebrow, surprised at the sudden change in her demeanor. For someone so smart, she can be really blonde sometimes. "My shirts, Carter, for crying out loud. Listen, I don't mind you keeping one or two to… I don't know, snuggle up with when I'm not there, but this has gone too far. You keep sneaking them away and never giving them back. _I have nothing to wear, Sam_."

They are staring at each other and Sam is not quite sure if she's understood the issue correctly.

"So… you came all this way here because of… shirts."

"You betcha."

"Huh." The more she thinks about their conversation the clearer it becomes how she has misjudged him on the issue. God how could she have been so plain stupid? It's not like she never thought about returning them. They just kind of started… piling up here. Every time she visited, she took the one he'd been wearing during the day because, well, it smells like him and when he isn't there, she misses him. It's why she's wearing one of them right now. She was going to return them - some of them at least - because what was the point in wearing them after they were washed and lost all the little nuances which were completely him? In fact, there's a pile in her suitcase right now.

"Sam?" He finally asks, as he steps closer toward her, the annoyance in his voice somewhat replaced by amusement. Carefully, he places his hands on her hips and draws her into his embrace.

"Jack?"

"May I _please_ have some of my shirts back?"

She pretends to think hard for a moment before her million-dollar smile appears on her lips and she replies cheekily: "You know what? Yes, you may. Thank you for asking."

He laughs and she giggles as he pulls her into a kiss to shut her up because, well, they still pretend to have the _no giggling_ thing established even after all those years.

His hands start to wander below the hem of her (his) shirt, brushing it up slightly, feeling, touching the soft skin underneath and she knows what's about to happen. If he wants his shirts back, he can start by taking this one off her.


End file.
